Nuke ’em, France

I know the French have tactical nuclear weapons. Plenty of low-yield items out there that are available for general use in desert climates. Now, more than ever, is the time to nuke some assorted targets in sandy places. Time to exterminate the caliphate.

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(By the way, the line to call me a racist is over there to the left.)

I’ve spent more than a little time kicking about in the south of France. Even spent a Bastille day there once upon a time. I remember we were lining up for the transport back to our nuclear go-kart, around 2200, most of us inebriated, when the explosions started. This was probably 1988, and Americans were regular terrorist targets. Being the sorts we were, we started to scatter and seek cover until our French hosts pointed to the fireworks now visible in the sky to our rear. Yes, fireworks, not car bombs. But it was a time when either could have been the case. Something people here in the United States never gave much thought to in the pre-internet era.

The cringing whiners among us will spend today calling the truck driver a crazy man. A lone-wolf. A… well, it doesn’t matter. He might have been. But I have a hunch that he was a low-life Jihadist scum ball that needed to die.

Today, I know that the French, much as I abuse them, will be planning some pay-back. Good for them. Unlike our illustrious leadership, they will not send out messages of assurance to the local mosques letting them know that the government is on guard to prevent a backlash. Nope, the French will lock down all sorts of ugly places, break out the waterboard, and send the bombers to visit distant lands. The Legion will be sending special visitors to slit throats. My compatriots in blood, and viewpoint, will be slamming coffin lids at home, and opening up the gates of Hell, ushering the perpetrators through the portal.

Nukes. They work in isolated areas. Great time to see how well the stockpile is holding up. Those ISIS, Nusra, Al Qaeda encampments far from other things would make great targets. No martyrs escaping to lick their wounds and take up the banner. Nope. Glassy little patches with carbon deposits.

Keep in mind: I’ve predicted that this long war will increase in violence and pace for a long time. I’m on the money so far. If you’re of a mind, go get a copy of Assault on Saint Agnes and see just how this looks at home. Or read a newspaper from Orlando, Boston, San Berdoo….

Go for it, France. I’ll be cheering from the cheap seats.

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